Chapter 35 — War Commander
"Waaagh?"
The Orks looked up as drop pods tore through the atmosphere like falling meteors.
They squinted skyward, tusked jaws hanging open.
More tin meteors.
More metal coffins.
The greenskins grinned.
Maybe big metal giants would come out and fight them.
A proper Waaagh! scrap.
The first pods slammed into the earth with thunderous force, shockwaves kicking dust and debris into the air.
Hydraulic locks detonated.
Petal-doors blasted outward.
Astartes emerged in disciplined formation, bolt rifles already roaring.
Mass-reactive rounds detonated inside green flesh, tearing apart charging Orks in fountains of gore.
"WAAAGH!"
The greenskins answered with delight.
War was joy.
They surged forward with axes, shootas, and wildly improvised weapons, firing indiscriminately as they charged. Slugs and scrap-metal projectiles screamed across the battlefield.
A few Orks paused, glancing skyward again.
A larger drop pod was descending.
Bigger pod.
Bigger giant.
Better fight.
The impact cratered the ground.
The pod split open.
Horus Lupercal stepped onto the battlefield.
Clad in pearl-white warplate, power sword blazing with disruptive energy, he moved with impossible speed. In a heartbeat, the Orks surrounding him were reduced to severed limbs and collapsing torsos.
"WAAAGH! BIG BOSS FIGHT!"
Instead of retreating, the greenskins rushed him in greater numbers.
"Back off!"
Abaddon burst into the melee, cleaving an Ork mid-swing before its axe could reach Horus.
"Thank you, Abaddon," Horus said calmly as his blade removed another Ork head.
This was precisely why Horus had insisted the recruit join the operation.
He saw potential in the young warrior. Yes, ambition burned in his eyes — but ambition could be forged into purpose. Horus intended to temper this raw iron into a blade worthy of the Legion.
Nearby veterans exchanged surprised glances.
Perhaps the recruit truly had merit.
The Orange Tide
"WAAAGH!"
Several greenskins screamed as orange-armored figures smashed into their flank.
Kadis led the Rising Sun Angels in a precision assault.
Gone was their relaxed demeanor.
Now they moved like perfectly synchronized war machines.
Their formation advanced like an armored wedge. Even at full charge, their bolt fire struck targets with surgical accuracy. Orks that breached the outer perimeter were cut down instantly, while the inner ranks advanced without breaking cadence.
They crushed through the greenskins like chariots through grass.
Abaddon stared.
Was Kadis always this formidable?
Did that make him look like an idiot earlier?
Kadis cut down a charging Ork and approached.
"You're here, brother."
He flicked blood from his blade.
"I'm Kadis, Company Commander of the Zero Legion."
"Abaddon… Sixteenth Legion recruit."
Kadis chuckled.
"You'll probably be promoted after this."
The Trap Closes
The battle unfolded with ruthless efficiency.
Horus's battlefield instincts were flawless. He issued precise commands at decisive moments, maintaining pressure while avoiding overextension.
Then came the feigned withdrawal.
The Orks took the bait.
Greenskin warcraft erupted into pursuit, engines screaming as they hurled themselves into orbit after the retreating Astartes strike force.
Exactly as planned.
With Ork fleet cohesion disrupted and their planetary Waaagh! field weakened, the Emperor and Yuki authorized extermination strikes on infested worlds.
Cyclonic firestorms consumed breeding zones.
In orbit, Imperial fleets closed the trap.
The ensuing void battle was fierce but brief.
The Imperium achieved total victory.
Promotions and Unexpected Friendship
Abaddon was promoted to platoon leader.
No one objected.
His battlefield performance had been exceptional.
It was obvious Horus valued him highly; his future was bright.
What surprised everyone more was the friendship forming between Abaddon and Kadis.
"Sister, I've come to pick up Abaddon."
Yuki stared at Horus.
Then at Abaddon, standing awkwardly beside him.
Then back at Horus.
"…Has he forgotten the way back to his own ship?"
Even Kadis finally spoke up.
"Brother, visiting is fine. But why are you here every day? We train. Why are you here during training?"
Abaddon had become a permanent fixture aboard the Imperial Wings.
Even during Zero Legion training.
Especially during Zero Legion training.
He insisted on sparring.
The training intensity was brutal. He was battered, bruised, and repeatedly slammed into the deck — yet refused to yield.
Why wouldn't he just pass out?
How were they supposed to carry him back if he stayed conscious?
Abaddon was suffering.
On his first visit, Horus had told him:
"Abaddon, you should spend more time with Kadis. Build relations."
"Do not worry, great Horus! I will strengthen the bond between our legions!"
That day, Horus personally came to retrieve him.
Abaddon nearly wept with pride.
Day two:
"Abaddon, spend more time with Kadis."
Day three:
"…Yes, my lord."
Day four:
"…Must I?"
"Yes."
Day five:
"…Father, I beg you, I do not wish to go."
"You do."
Abaddon felt Kadis was beginning to suspect he enjoyed being beaten.
How was he supposed to survive legion life like this?
Yuki rubbed her temples.
"Enough. Abaddon can visit whenever he wants. Stop torturing him."
Abaddon nodded rapidly.
Yes. Please stop.
A Brother's Excuse
Yuki finally understood.
She had been buried in work for weeks.
Horus hadn't seen her.
He couldn't interrupt her with something as childish as "I miss you."
So he used Abaddon as an excuse.
Now exposed, Horus lowered his head silently.
Yuki sighed.
"Kadis, take Abaddon back. Horus, come with me."
She led him down the corridors of the Imperial Wings.
Horus followed in a quiet daze.
For a Primarch, losing track of direction was practically a medical emergency.
The Room of Endless Work
They entered a vast chamber.
Horus stopped.
Bookshelves stretched like fortress walls. Manuscripts carpeted the floor. Starlight and lamplight reflected off oceans of parchment.
It rivaled the Terra Library.
Yuki guided him through the maze to a simple space: one desk, one bed.
"Come here if you want to find me," she said. "I'm usually here."
Horus picked up a manuscript.
Political systems crossed out.
Administrative frameworks rewritten.
Genetic diagrams sketched and revised.
He understood fragments.
"Does Sister always work here?"
"Yes."
"Then don't mind me. Continue."
Yuki studied him.
He appeared calm — but something stirred beneath the surface.
She shrugged.
"Alright."
Horus lay quietly on the bed, watching her under the lamplight.
In her violet eyes he saw reflected endless pages of careful handwriting.
A Son's Decision
Later.
"Father, may I enter?"
"Enter."
The Emperor looked up from strategic projections.
Horus stood straighter.
"I wish to participate in governance."
The Emperor blinked.
This child had always disdained politics.
What changed?
"…I saw how hard my sister works," Horus said. "I wish to share her burden."
The Emperor understood.
In truth, he and Malcador carried the overwhelming majority of Imperial governance. Yuki handled only a fraction — yet even that burden was immense.
Still, this was an opportunity.
A future Warmaster must understand more than war.
The Emperor steepled his fingers.
"Your duty is the Great Crusade. Imperial governance is not entered lightly."
Horus lowered his head.
"But, Father—"
The Emperor raised a hand.
"There is another path."
"Do you know what a Warmaster is?"
Horus looked up.
"A Warmaster?"